A Mother's Story
by Bookworm2015
Summary: We all know Liesel's story but what about her mother's? This is my take on how Liesel came to Himmel Street through her mother's pov.


The steam from the train billows behind us, an almost endless plume of gray, stark against the blinding, snow-covered mountainsides. Our country is choking under a blanket of white as if the color's supposed purity can mask its sins. The children are lulled to sleep by the rhythmic chugging of the wheels, and I can feel myself slipping away with them _. Liesel, Werner, my poor Schätzchen, please forgive your foolish Mama. I tried my darlings, I tried for as long as I was able, but I can't be selfish anymore._

WW1 gave us nothing but sorrow and a festering wound left to rot. The restorations forced on us by the Treaty of Versailles and the fallout from America's Great Depression have brought our country to the brink of collapse, and the resentment and animosity they wrought have clung to our skins and burrowed into our hearts; turning even some of the gentlest souls into vicious monsters. Hitler came to us in a time when we believed all was lost. After the pain of war and the desolation left in its wake, we would have followed the Devil himself if he offered us as much as a spider's thread to free us from this Hell on Earth. I almost wish it was the Devil who came to us. At least then we would've known of his soul's putrid decay and the empty cavity where his heart should lay before we made our pact. That's the trouble with us humans, I suppose, the dangerous ones are often concealed beneath the most unassuming and benign façades, and we, like foolish sheep, don't see the wolves underneath until we're already in their bellies.

Falling under his power was like falling asleep, slowly, then all at once. Hitler had all the answers and made us have pride in our country again, and, before we knew it, our lives finally seemed to take a good turn. He was hailed as a messiah among men. We learned the truth soon enough, well, the shrewd and those who had the most to lose learned while the rest remain blissfully unaware.

The Nazi party quickly grew into power and ruthlessly took down any who opposed it. Around the same time, anti-Semitic political propaganda increased, and, with the passing of the Nuremberg laws, one of the few things more dangerous to be than a communist was a Jew.

I should have sent you both away years ago. After the Reichstag fire and your father was taken away for being a communist, I should have fled somewhere far away to keep you protected from my reputation and sent you somewhere safe. Now, because of my selfishness, you both have suffered these past years with the suspicion and poverty brought by your father's arrest. I thought moving would be safe, and it would have been if not for that Arschloch, Rupert. He came visiting relatives and told the Gestapo we were communists once he recognized me. A friend in the office warned me, and she gave me a name in social services to find somewhere safe for you two after we left our home like thieves in the night.

 _It's too late for me now, Liesel, meine Liebling, so you must be strong for your brother because after I leave, I won't make it to the border_. Small, insistent hands shake me from sleep, and I open my eyes only to find Liesel distraught and panicking and Werner, my sweet little boy, dead.

 _This is my fault, all my fault!_ I'm suffocating under the force of my guilt, and some detached part of me realizes I'm having a panic attack _. Oh God, oh God! I need to wake up, this is only a nightmare. Wake up! WAKE UP!_ Someone is screaming, why are they screaming? I really wish they'd stop—wait, that's me. I'm screaming. I should probably stop. Liesel will worry.

The train screeches to a halt—something about the tracks. It's not my stop, but I don't care. I need to get him out of here, out of this accursed train. I bundle Werner's to my chest and stagger down the stairs. His body is so light from all the days with no food, but my arms are weak and numb from starvation and cold, so he slips from my arms and drops into the deep snow.

Snow, will you steal the last of his warmth as well as his life? Just the cold may have killed him, but playing in you sealed his fate. You tempt him with your beauty and the promise of fun while plotting our deaths. What am I saying? I see plots and Nazis in everything these days, even snow.

Liesel is sobbing next to me, clinging to my skirt. I want to hold her in my arms and shield her from the pain, clutch her to me and never let go, but I can't let go of Werner. I can't leave him alone. Please, Liebling, forgive me.

We have to wait two days for Werner to be buried. Two days of seeing nothing but his lifeless face whenever I close my eyes. My ears ring with the sound of Liesel's sobbing. I have robbed her of her brother and will soon take away her mother. Neither of us has left Werner alone for a moment knowing this will be the last time we shall see his face until we meet again in the next life. I'll see him soon, but not Liesel God willing.

I find myself not wanting to let her out of my reach. Soon, I will never again hold her in my arms, run my fingers through her wispy, safe blonde hair, or sing her a lullaby to chase away the nightmares that haunt her.

The funeral passes in a haze of white and a jumble of half-heard words. Tears and choked out sobs escape past the thick blanket that smothers my emotions. I've been numb to the pain in my heart and the cold since I first opened my eyes this morning. I just want it to end. No more running, no more death, just peace and an end to the suffering. Guilt consumes me whenever I start longing for my death so I can see my husband and son again knowing Liesel will truly be left alone and among strangers.

I pray she goes to a family that will love her and gives her a life I never could; a life with love, laughter, and no more running or looking over her shoulder. With luck, she'll forget me and her brother as she has already forgotten her father. She is young enough where the memories of us will soon be nothing more than distant daydreams of half-remembered sounds and smells. No real emotions to put to the memories that will become mere flashes of images.

We board the train again heading for Munich, and when we reach the social services building, I just want to take her with me and fly her away to some of the far-off lands I used to tell her about in her bedtime stories. Lands of riches and plenty, where the people are kind and the days are long and sweet. However, stories are just stories in the end, and where I'm going I would never let her follow.

I clutch her to me, trying to weld her to my body and imprint this moment into my mind and soul. Her arms are a vise around me, and her hot tears scald the skin on my neck while piercing cries are wrenched from her throat. Someone tears her from me, and I force my body to leave her while I still have the strength of will. The last things I shall ever hear from my beloved daughter are her screams to not leave her to please come back, but I can't go back _. I have to protect you Liesel, and you'll be dead if you stay with me_. I slam my body into the door and out into the light.

I'm blinded by white.


End file.
